


One Battle in a War

by stuffy_j



Series: Reaper76 Week [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Omnic Crisis, Reaper76 Week, Trust, Well sort of a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffy_j/pseuds/stuffy_j
Summary: “Sir, they aren’t coming back for us,” she said flatly. “Last they heard, we were trapped behind enemy lines and under fire. We may not be under fire any longer, but we’re definitely still stuck here, if you hadn’t noticed!” A frantic note climbed into her voice, but she remained just as quiet as Jack.He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he said, watching her stiffen slightly at the tone of his voice. “Have some faith in Reyes. He won’t leave a soldier behind.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 3 of Reaper76 Week: At Your Back - Trust/Betrayal.
> 
> Woo, this one was pretty difficult for me to write! I'm not used to writing a ton of violence or action really, so writing this was definitely out of my comfort zone. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, I definitely had fun torturing Jack just the slightest bit. :)
> 
> You can find me at edgedadhell on Tumblr! Feel free to stop by!

It was quiet at the moment, but Jack wasn’t sure how long that would last. The omnics had left the warehouse, but he could see the faint red glow of Bastion units through the exits, standing guard. Crouched behind some metal shipping crates in the back of the building, Jack stared down at his now-useless communicator and cursed quietly, blood from a cut on his forehead trickling down his face. Miranda Ortiz, crouched next to him, looked at him sharply, her dark eyes scared though the rest of her body didn’t show it.

“Alright,” Jack whispered, careful to muffle the sound with his hand so that his voice wouldn’t echo off the metal around them and alert the omnics, “We need to come up with a plan. Reyes is going to be counting on us to help out as much as possible, otherwise any sort of rescue attempt is only going to end in everyone dead.”

Ortiz looked at him like he was crazy. “Sir, they aren’t coming back for us,” she said flatly. “Last they heard, we were trapped behind enemy lines and under fire. We may not be under fire any longer, but we’re definitely still stuck here, if you hadn’t noticed!” A frantic note climbed into her voice, but she remained just as quiet as Jack. 

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he said, watching her stiffen slightly at the tone of his voice. “Have some faith in Reyes. He won’t leave a soldier behind.”

“It’s not the Commander I don’t have faith in, sir, it’s everyone above him,” she said. 

Jack grinned and winked at her. “Good thing we had to turn our comms off, otherwise they’d launch a rescue mission just to bring you back to court martial you,” he said cheerily. Ortiz blinked and cracked a small smile before her shoulders slumped again.

“But sir, how are we even supposed to let them know we’re alive? We turn the comms back on and the damn omnics will pick up on the frequency immediately. And then we’re dead.”

“True,” Jack said, “But you’re thinking too much like yourself right now. You need to think like Reyes. He’ll know we can’t turn on the comms, so he’ll be looking for the best place to pick us up, get us out of here. So if we can just get ourselves there in at least one piece, we’ll be golden.” He wiped away some of the blood on his face, clearing his eyes. “There’s a pretty good rendezvous point I saw about a mile from here, what looks like another abandoned warehouse but with a flat roof. If we can get up there, the transport should be able to get to us and then get out pretty easily and quickly.”

A spark of hope flared in Ortiz’s eyes, the first spark Jack had seen in them since they had been separated from the rest of their unit and trapped in the warehouse. “Then I guess I’m following you, sir,” she said, picking up her guns. Jack picked up his pulse rifle.

“Let’s go.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, Jack reflected, this certainly wasn’t the fastest one of his plans had gone to shit, but it was definitely top five. Maybe even top three, if you didn’t count Cape Town or Barcelona. Definitely up there, at least. 

Getting out of the warehouse had been suspiciously easy, which really should have been Jack’s first warning that some major shit was about to go down. He and Ortiz had found a miraculously unguarded exit, and they had slipped through the maze of buildings that made up the warehouse district, utilizing shipping crates and large wooden pallets for cover. The sky was a gray haze above them, smoke from various fires and slight fog rolling off the ocean adding to the general malaise of the scene.

Jack knew he was dripping blood from his face, could feel it slowly congealing as it rolled down his cheeks and into his eyes. He tried to wipe it away every now and then, but head wounds bled a lot, and he didn’t have much in the way of fabric to staunch the flow--the goddamn uniforms were made out of some sort of hybridized breathable fabric, and also they were really fucking hard to rip. He really needed to talk with whoever designed these, maybe convince them that a spare panel be just regular fucking cloth, just in case shit like this ever happened again.

So Jack knew he was bleeding, but he didn’t realize how visible it was on the ground, bright red splotches against the concrete and silvery wood of the docks and loading areas, a convenient, colorful trail. 

He heard the whirring of machinery and tackled Ortiz, throwing them both to the ground just as a volley of bullets ripped overhead. Both soldiers cursed, scrambling for cover as the omnic behind them had to reload, utilizing the precious few seconds that bought them to dunk behind a crumbling warehouse.

“Shit,” Jack said, chest heaving, “Let’s go, before it calls in reinforcements.”

Metal scraped across concrete, and a Bastion unit dropped down from the roof of the warehouse right in front of them, assembling into turret mode.

Hardly thinking, Jack squeezed the trigger and fired a round of helix rockets at the omnic before it could begin shooting. The Bastion unit exploded in flames, knocking the crumbling wall down and throwing the two soldiers into the air. 

Jack hit something hard-- _ probably the wall, idiot _ \--and slumped to the ground, coughing and wincing against the stabbing pain of what was most definitely at least one broken rib. “Ortiz?” he shouted, struggling to his feet, attempting to take inventory of his injuries. At least one broken rib, left ankle was badly sprained if not broken, parts of his uniform had been torn off (oh, now it tears, fucking awesome) and several burns had left swathes of raw, bloody flesh in their wake. Probably a concussion, too, judging by the nausea and dizziness that swept over him as he finally stood up in the rubble. “Ortiz!” he shouted again, listening carefully, sweeping his gaze over the area around him in increasingly wide circles. Gabriel would absolutely murder him if he left a fellow soldier behind--

There! Jack hobbled over to Ortiz’s slumped body, rolling her over onto her back as best as he could. The movement jostled her awake, eyes opening in her dark face and peering up at him groggily before awareness swiftly returned. She was covered in splotches of red dust, fine powder from vaporized brick, and she had a couple of cuts on her face and head but seemed otherwise unharmed.

“Sir?” she asked, wiping some of the dust off her face as she stood up. She immediately paled, staring at Jack in horror.

“What is it?” he asked, “What’s wrong?’ She pointed at his side.

Looking down, Jack saw a piece of shrapnel protruding from his left side, what looked like the Bastion unit’s serial code printed on the twisted piece of metal in blocky white font. Jack crumpled to his knees, fire spreading up his side, into his lungs, his arms, his shoulders, brain suddenly feeling the pain his nerves were screaming at it, breaths coming short and sharp. He groaned and grabbed the metal, wanting to pull it out, wanting to get rid of the source of the pain, but Ortiz slapped his hands away.

“No, you idiot!” she yelled at him. “Don’t pull it out!” She froze. Jack attempted to wave her expression away, but his hand felt a bit like someone had attached a dead fish to a wooden pole and was swinging it around ineffectively.

“You’re right, you’re…right,” he panted, attempting to get to his feet, taking her hand when he couldn’t. “It’s--I’ll be fine, the docs’ll fix me up when...when we get back, c’mon, we gotta--gotta keep moving,” he said, clutching his side, still panting.

Blood dripped steadily to the ground as they kept moving. If the omnics had been able to track them on just a little blood before, this was practically laying out the literal red carpet. Jack held his pulse rifle with one hand, other hand wrapped around his body and pressed against the shrapnel. He knew he wasn’t doing anything to help himself, but he told his mind to shut up and pretend like the pressure was actually helping to staunch the flow of blood. He’d never had the chance to actually test how much blood a super soldier could lose before passing out and dying but there was a first time for everything, Jack supposed. At least if he died the doctors could have a somewhat decent idea about the whole blood loss thing.

Jack’s breathing was too loud, too ragged to mean anything good. He halted, laying a hand against a wall and coughing wetly, shining strings of blood dripping from his lips to the ground. “Shit,” he groaned, wiping his mouth before standing back up and pointing at a building not too far away, slightly taller than the rest and with a flat roof. “Okay, there it--there it is,” he panted. “Almost there.”

The omnics burst through the adjacent wall, filling the air with gunfire once again, the smell of burning metal and gunpowder acrid and harsh.

The soldiers ran. Jack was slow, but still slightly faster than the omnics His muscles ached; his skin felt like it was being peeled off strip by aching strip; his blood ran like fire through his fingers and down his side, pooling on the ground beneath him and making it slick. Following Ortiz into another warehouse, the two slipped through and hid behind another stack of shipping crates. The omnics did not follow.

Jack’s breathing was too fast now, too shallow, the blood oozing thick and red from the wound around the shrapnel. Looking down, he noticed a bullet hole, no, two, passing through the meat of his left shoulder. “Lucky...bastards--” he wheezed before breaking off into a coughing fit.

“Sir!” Ortiz said, eyes wide and scared and had she always looked so young? Jack thought hazily. Looked like a bullet had grazed the side of her head, she was bleeding from just above her ear, but otherwise she was unharmed. 

The fish-wrists were back, Jack noticed, bringing his hand up and attempting to lay it on Ortiz’s shoulder, give her some kind of comfort, support, be the leader he was supposed to be right now. He wasn’t sure what to say, though.  _ Gabe would know what to say _ , he thought, eyes unfocused, a small smile quirking his lips. Gabe wouldn’t let this stop him, would lead them all to safety, get everyone out alive. Gabe had always been stronger than him.

Jack realized Ortiz was talking to him, her lips moving frantically. He struggled to tune back in, make himself listen. “--at should I do?” she asked. “Sir? What do you need me to do?” She pressed her hand to his side as well, making him scream in pain, but she held her hand there.

The goddamn concussion was making everything way too difficult to understand. Jack closed his eyes, counted to five, forced himself to focus. What should she do? He opened his eyes again, looking at Ortiz with the most clarity he’d felt in what seemed like hours. “Get out of here,” he said, voice calm. “Okay? That’s what you should do. Leave me here--wait, first give me any remaining pulse grenades you still have, and one of your guns. Take my rifle, save your other gun for when you need it.”

Ortiz looked at him like he was crazy.  _ Right back where we started _ , Jack thought, vaguely amused. “I’m not leaving you behind, sir,” she said.

Jack coughed, spit up more blood. “Yes, you are,” he said. “They’re coming for you, it’s okay, you know wh--where to go.” He gestured at the floor next to him, palm dripping red. “Put the pulse grenades here, where I can reach ‘em. Keep going without me, I’ll be fine.” He grinned up at her, and it was a grisly sight, too much red on his teeth, his gums, spilling over his lips.  _ What’s blonde and white and red all over?  _ Jack thought to himself, and laughed. A starburst of pain exploded in his core, and he slumped against the shipping container behind him.

Ortiz still hadn’t moved. Jack frowned at her. “Those were orders, soldier,” he said, steely-eyed. His voice made her jump, and she put the pulse grenades and one of her guns on the ground next to Jack before looking at him again.

“But sir,” she whispered, couldn’t continue. Jack attempted to smile at her.

“Think we’re past the formalities at this point, don’t you?” he asked, nodding at where his pulse rifle lay on the ground. “Go on, take it.” Ortiz stood up, hefted the weighty gun in her arms. “Godspeed, Miranda,” Jack said, saluting her from his spot on the floor. “I’ll hold ‘em off if need be.”

“Godspeed, Jack,” Ortiz said quietly, saluting him back before slipping away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

Jack leaned back against the cool metal behind him and sighed. Pulling the gun into his lap, he quickly took it apart, opening up the bullet chamber and taking one out before putting the gun back together. He set the bullet on the ground next to him, and waited.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

They had taken out the ack-acks, but the omnics were still firing at them, those fucking Bastion units camped out in turret form on the ground. Fortunately the transport was fairly small and light, capable of dodging and weaving through the air without being hit.

It was Gabriel who spotted the figure first, waving their arms frantically from the wide roof of one of the more intact warehouses. “There!” he shouted, and the pilot began maneuvering them towards the roof, touching down lightly.

Ortiz tumbled through the transport door. “Where’s Morrison?” Gabriel said tightly. 

“He told me to leave him behind, sir,” Ortiz said quickly. She pointed out the warehouse she had left him in. “He’s in there, said he would hold off the omnics for me.” She looked at Gabriel. “I haven’t heard anything from inside there yet,” she said.

Gabriel was already loading his shotguns, cursing under his breath. “Goddamn  _ hijo de puta _ ,” he growled, tucking a few more ammo packs into his uniform. “Fucking backwards-ass cornbread  _ pinche idiota _ , motherfucking self-sacrificing asshole.” He looked at Ortiz and the pilot. “I’ll be back. If you have to, get back up into the air and wait until you see me. I’ll try to get up somewhere like this for you to pick us up.” With that, he left, running across the rooftop and jumping down, rolling as he hit the ground.

Jack hadn’t moved, eyes closed, listening to the rasp of his own breath in his throat, like fine-grained sandpaper rubbing against soft bark. A hand touched his face, but it felt human, warm fingertips against his suddenly cold skin. Jack opened his eyes and looked up at Gabriel, feeling a smile twist his mouth. At least his mind was being merciful in his last moments.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, voice a dry whisper. “Glad you could join me. Dying wouldn’t be the same without you here, too.”

The hallucination frowned down at him. “Come on,  _ pendejo _ ,” he heard it say, “Time to get up. We gotta get out of here.” Damn, his mind was good. It actually sounded like Gabriel, had the tone and cadence down just right. Jack silently congratulated his clearly superior ability to imagine his boyfriend even while suffering from severe and traumatic injuries. He closed his eyes again.

“Oh no, none of that,” the hallucination said, leaning down and hauling Jack up with an arm around his waist, draping Jack’s arm across his own very strong and very solid shoulders. Jack cried out as pain flared along his side, blood spattering on the ground as he was moved. 

“Gabe?” he groaned out, “Is that really you?”

“I don’t know who else you’d be calling sweetheart,  _ mi luz _ , but if you’re expecting someone else I’ll probably have to kill them,” Gabriel said, practically marching them across the floor. Jack’s feet scraped across the ground as he was dragged along. “Goddamn you’re heavy. Stop eating so much,  _ cabron _ .”

Jack hacked out a wet laugh, closing his eyes. “I love you,” he said.

The next moment, he was swept off his feet, being carried bridal style, pressed against a warm chest. Pain streaked through him, but it was a price worth paying to feel Gabriel’s arms around him. 

“I know,” Gabriel replied.

Jack cracked an eye open to glare up at him. Gabriel laughed, the sound husky and low as they made their way back to the transport. They passed a broken and on fire Bastion unit, several shotgun round holes evident on its body.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Ortiz came to visit Jack a few days later, while he was still resting in the SEP medical facility after being patched up. He was sitting up in his bed, a large white bandage wrapped around his torso where the shrapnel had once so grotesquely protruded, reading a book and wearing a small pair of reading glasses.

“Sir?” Ortiz said from the doorway. Jack looked up, startled. “May I come in? Is this a bad time?”

Jack set the book down and smiled, taking off his glasses and putting them on the small nightstand next to his bed. “No, please, come in! I thought I told you we were done with formalities,” he said, grinning at her. She grinned back at him, sitting in the chair that was pulled up next to the bedside. She opened her mouth as though to say something before closing it again, looking at her clasped hands in her lap.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, looking back up at him. Jack cocked his head, confusion painted over his face. “I’m sorry for doubting you,” she clarified. “You said they would come back for us, and you were right.”

Jack smiled at her again, waving away the apology. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “Like I told you, Gabriel would never leave a soldier behind.

  
“I’d trust Gabriel to always have my back.”


End file.
